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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237049">Blizzard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere'>RobinsonsWereHere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call the Midwife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blackouts, Blizzards &amp; Snowstorms, Blood, Blood Donation, Childbirth, Emergency medical procedures, Gen, Medical Procedures, Whump, Whumptober 2020, field medicine, trixie franklin is a bamf, val whump, valtrix if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:29:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter in Poplar is a nightmarish time for the Nonnatus nurses. Power is out, phones are down, and even if they could call one, ambulances won't come. Caring for a laboring mother in the middle of an unrelenting blizzard, Trixie and Valerie must think on their feet and make hard choices to ensure everyone makes it to morning unscathed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Valerie Dyer &amp; Trixie Franklin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blizzard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am having FUN with my whumptober fics, and if you hadn't noticed, I'm whumping Val a lot. Everyone get ready for some winter emergency fun!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trixie has worked through some of the harshest winters in Poplar, but this snowstorm is growing worryingly strong. She’s got a mother barely nine fingers dilated with profuse bleeding, and she’s not sure an ambulance will be able to make it to the snow. Still, she’s sent the father off to phone the hospital; of course she has. What other choice is there?</p>
<p>The jazzy records that are intended to hide the sound of her patient screaming from the three children asleep a few rooms over is very at odds with her mood. Bobby Darin is crooning from the record player, and her patient is moaning and screaming in pain. Quite a contrast.</p>
<p>The door slams shut and the husband, Mr. Frank Taylor, rushes back in. “It’s no good, Nurse. Not even the phone boxes are working.”</p>
<p>Trixie says several words that Phyllis would not approve of being used in front of patients. She narrows her eyes at Mr. Taylor. “Are you decent on a bicycle?”</p>
<p>“Won almost every race as a kid,” he says. “All the kids on my street would race each other. I only ever lost to Val Dyer, that girl’s a speed demon--”</p>
<p>Under other circumstances, Trixie would laugh at the mental image of a tiny Valerie speedily pedaling over the Poplar cobblestones, but now she quickly cuts him off. “Good. Take my bike, go to Nonnatus House as fast as you can. Someone will be on call; they’ll be in the hallway within earshot of the doorbell. You pedal like you’ve never pedaled in your life, do you hear me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The worry in his gaze as he stares at his laboring wife tells her he didn’t need the reminder. “‘Course. I gotta do it for her.”<br/>---</p>
<p>Valerie swears she can barely hear the doorbell over the howling wind outside. The whirling white snow she glimpses out the window only makes her more glad to be safe inside, a fire flaming and blankets wrapped around her. But the sight of a panicked man on the doorstep tells her she won’t be staying warm for long.</p>
<p>Soon after opening the door-- and being hit by a blast of icy air-- she recognizes the man. “Frank Taylor? Wait, Trixie left to see Joan earlier this evening didn’t she?”</p>
<p>Frank, panting hard, only manages to nod. “She’s with her now-- somethin’s wrong-- there’s blood, I dunno-- she said for me to get whoever answered the door.”</p>
<p>“I guess we ain’t got time for a cuppa,” Val mutters. “Come in, then. I’ve got to grab my things and wake whoever’s next on call.” She pulls him into the warm building-- not too terribly so, with the power being out-- and gives him a reassuring shoulder pat. “Two shakes, promise.”</p>
<p>Indeed, she all but sprints up the stairs, banging on the door to Phyllis and Lucille’s room without checking to see which one wakes. Phyllis follows her out as she’s trying to fasten her cape and dismount the stairs at the same time. “Slow down, Nurse Dyer, you’ll break your neck!”</p>
<p>“Trixie needs me at Mrs. Taylor’s,” Val explains. “Mr. Taylor is here now. I’m off. You’re on call.”</p>
<p>Phyllis retreats for a dressing gown as she spies the nervous father at the bottom of the stairs. “Best of luck to you. And mind you don’t catch a chill.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Is it ‘ere yet?”</p>
<p>Trixie reaches up from between Mrs. Taylor’s legs to give her hand a squeeze. “Not yet, sweetie, but almost. You’re close to the home stretch. Just hold on for me, Joan. I know you’re tired, but you can do it!”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I can,” the woman moans. “It was never like this with the first one… I’m so tired…”</p>
<p>“You have lost a bit more blood than we would like,” Trixie tells her, “but as soon as baby gets here, we can fix you up.” She peeks her head around to offer an encouraging smile. “You’re getting so close, Joan… just tell me when you feel the urge to push…”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“It’ll be just like old times, huh?”</p>
<p>Valerie looks up from strapping her delivery bag onto her bike, frowning a bit as she tries to figure out what he’s talking about. When she does, she laughs. “Oh, you’re saying this is a race? Are you prepared to lose again?”</p>
<p>“Maybe I’ll redeem myself,” Frank jokes, mounting his bike.</p>
<p>They pedal off, fast but not really racing. “Well, you have got the advantage of panic and adrenaline.”</p>
<p>Frank laughs, but it sounds false. “You saying you’re not freakin’ out, Val?”</p>
<p>“‘Course not,” she says, pushing ahead. “I’m always calm and collected.”</p>
<p>They do turn it into a bit of a race, and Valerie does win. She and Frank are both winded by the time they reach his apartment block.</p>
<p>“Elevator’s out,” he pants. “No power.”</p>
<p>She gives him a side-eye. “You’re saying we’ve got to hike how many flights of stairs?”</p>
<p>“Four.” He winces.</p>
<p>Valerie shakes her head, then grins. “Race you.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Trixie has never been so relieved to see Valerie throw open a door and bluster through much faster than necessary. The brunette does it a lot-- she doesn’t seem to know the meaning of ‘slow’-- but tonight, Trixie is thankful for her speed.</p>
<p>“Wash your hands,” she tells Mr. Taylor, both of them out of breath. “And then stay out of the way unless we say somethin’ else.”</p>
<p>“Baby is on the way,” Trixie says, as Valerie trades her cape for her gown. She looks back to make sure Mr. Taylor is out of the room. “And we’re working with a time crunch-- I wouldn’t say that Mrs. Taylor has more than three hours or so, with her rate of blood loss.”</p>
<p>“No ambulances can get through this, huh?” Valerie takes a seat next to Mrs. Taylor, holding her hand. “Hey, Joan.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Val.”</p>
<p>“Even if they could, the phones are down,” Trixie sighs. “It’s just us tonight.”</p>
<p>Surprisingly, the next words are from their patient. “I’m not worried,” she says quietly. “We’re strong, us Poplar girls.” She grins at Valerie, squeezing her hand, then looks down at Trixie. “You’ve been here long enough to get lumped in.”</p>
<p>Trixie smiles at them both, but when she meets Valerie’s eyes, her gaze turns serious. The two midwives hold eye contact for a few seconds, and then Valerie nods, and Trixie ducks back between their patient’s legs.</p>
<p>Their patient might not be worried, but they still have reason to be.</p>
<p>Valerie learns from Trixie that a placental abruption had taken place likely just before the start of labor, and the bleeding has ebbed and flowed since then. Irregular bleeding makes this all the more tricky… a sudden increase could cut their time estimate in half.</p>
<p>“That’s it, Joan,” Trixie calls out. “You’re doing so well! Baby is almost here, I can see the head…”</p>
<p>When the baby is born, a little girl with a strong pair of lungs, Trixie clamps and cuts the cord, then hands her to Valerie. After cleaning her off and wrapping her up nice and warm, Valerie gives her to her mother.</p>
<p>“We named our first after my mum,” Joan murmurs, a smile spreading across her face even though she looks as though she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. “Dunno what to name this one.”</p>
<p>“You and Frank can have a nice long chat about it after the placenta is here, yeah?” Valerie squeezes her hand. “Soon as the afterbirth gets here you’ll be right as rain.”</p>
<p>“I’m named after Sister Monica Joan,” she whispers. “It was her and Sister Julienne, the night I was born. Only, Sister Julienne was new back then. Funny to think about that now.”</p>
<p>“I think Frank might have a meltdown if you named her after me,” Valerie jokes. Joan’s laugh turns to a moan of pain, but they hear a sigh of relief from Trixie after the contraction passes.</p>
<p>“Placenta complete,” she says.</p>
<p>Joan beams. “Hey, what’s your first name, Nurse? I know they call you Trixie, but is it short for anything?”</p>
<p>“Beatrix,” Trixie answers. She’s clearly still focused on assessing the blood loss.</p>
<p>Joan hums. “Beatrix. I’ve never heard that one before.” She smiles down at her daughter in her arms. “Beatrix Valerie Taylor… I think it suits her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Valerie is grinning ear to ear, but she doesn’t have time to spare to be honored. Joan’s complexion is ashy, and her condition is touch and go. Assuring that baby Beatrix is safe and warm in her mother’s arms, she hurries to crouch by Trixie’s side. “How is she?”</p>
<p>“Bleeding has definitely slowed, should stop soon,” Trixie reports. Her gloved hands are covered in blood, and there’s a large pool of it on the sheets. “But I don’t-- we might be too late. SHe might have lost too much.”</p>
<p>Knowing they’re playing a waiting game now, Valerie sets her jaw and begins cleaning up. “Should I bring in Frank?”</p>
<p>Trixie’s answering sigh is shaky. “Let’s get this place cleaned up first.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Trixie stares out the window of the high-rise apartment, her freshly washed hands gripping the sill to keep them from shaking. The blizzard is so thick she can’t even see the street four stories below.</p>
<p>Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are cooing over their new addition, but Valerie joins Trixie at the window. They stare silently out at the storm, shoulder to shoulder, drawing warmth from each other in the cold night. Trixie is the first one to break the silence.</p>
<p>“We weren’t fast enough,” she says, her voice as shaky as her hands. “She’s lost too much blood, Valerie. If by some miracle she doesn’t go into shock, I don’t think she’ll wake up again if she sleeps.”</p>
<p>“No.” Valerie shakes her head. “No, that can’t be. If this were a normal night we would have her in an ambulance pronto, I’m not going to lose a mother-- a <em>friend--</em> to a bleeding snowstorm.”</p>
<p>Trixie spares a moment to find her choice of swear ironic, then heaves a sigh. “What can we do? How can we help her? The only thing to do now is a blood transfusion, and we have no way to give her that.”</p>
<p>Valerie makes an angry noise in the back of her throat, then suddenly goes rigid and utterly still. “Wait a minute,” she breathes. In the time it takes Trixie to blink, she’s rushing for her medical bag.</p>
<p>“Valerie?” Trixie follows her more slowly, confusion etching its way across her face. “What are you--”</p>
<p>“A-ha!” Valerie jumps up victoriously, holding a length of tubing they would use to suction an airway and a packet of sterile needles. “I knew it. We <em>can</em> do a transfusion.”</p>
<p>Trixie blinks, surprised. “Valerie, you’re forgetting one key detail… we don’t have any blood.”</p>
<p>Her friend grins, a spark in her eye. “That’s the kicker, Trix,” she says. “I’m O-negative.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“You’re being unreasonable.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to endanger you!”</p>
<p>“Mother and baby first, Trixie!”</p>
<p>“Not to the extent of harming yourself!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>”Yes!</em> Yes to that extent! I’ll be fine, Trixie! I know my limits!”</p>
<p>Mr. Taylor steps between them, looking concerned. “Sorry, what’s going on? I thought she was safe, now that the baby’s here.”</p>
<p>Trixie pastes on a smile, but Valerie answers first. “Your wife has lost a lot of blood already,” she says, “and even though she’s not losing any more right now, she's still very weak. But a blood transfusion will get her truly out of the woods.”</p>
<p>The man’s eyebrows wrinkle. “You nurses can do that?”</p>
<p>This time Trixie steps in before Valerie can promise more than she can deliver. “That’s what we’re discussing.” And with that, she drags Valerie over to the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Trixie,” Valerie says, her voice low. “Let me do this. We can save her.”</p>
<p>Trixie folds her arms over her chest. “We would never do patient-to-patient transfusion! You know that!”</p>
<p>“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”</p>
<p>“Valerie--” Trixie runs her fingers through her hair, and her bun that’s been suffering for the past few hours finally comes loose. She makes a noise of irritation and goes to tie it back into a ponytail. “We don’t even have a way to measure how much blood you’d be giving her! It’s too dangerous. What if you went too far?”</p>
<p>It’s Valerie’s turn to fold her arms. Her jaw is set square, her posture straight. Everything about her radiates stubbornness, says she isn’t backing down. “I told you. I know my limits.”</p>
<p>“This is mad,” Trixie whispers.</p>
<p>Valerie shrugs and paces away, knowing she’s won. “We did it all the time in the army.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Valerie leans down over her patient on the bed, swabbing the inside of her elbow with alcohol. “Joan, love,” she asks, “how much do you know about blood transfusions?”</p>
<p>Joan shrugs. “I dunno. You need it, the doc gives it to ya.”</p>
<p>“There’s a little more to it than that, but you’ve got the gist,” Valerie agrees. “But right now, we don’t have a doctor, and we can’t really get to one. The thing is--” she takes a seat in a chair next to the bed and begins swabbing her own arm-- “I’ve got plenty more blood than I need. So Nurse Franklin and I have figured out a system…” she squeezes her friend’s hand. “We’re gonna do a transfusion just like you’d get in the hospital… except instead of a blood bag, you’ll be hooked up to me.”</p>
<p>“Hm, alright,” Joan agrees. “Feel like you two know what you’re doing.”</p>
<p>A few feet away, Trixie scowls at their contraption of needles and tubing. “I wish I agreed,” she whispers.</p>
<p>Valerie will admit to looking away while Trixie inserts the needle into her arm. When her friend raises an eyebrow, she just shrugs. “I can do it to other people, but I don’t like it done to me.” But when the needle is securely taped in place, it doesn’t feel that bad, provided she doesn’t move. And she’s not going to be doing much of that.</p>
<p>Trixie stands from where she’s wrapping the needle now in Joan’s vein. Already, blood is flowing through the tube, the clear plastic turning red. “And now,” she says, “we let gravity do the work.”</p>
<p>Her bright manner satisfies Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, but Valerie can tell she’s high-strung. With her free hand, she reaches out for Trixie’s. “We’re doing the right thing,” she murmurs. “This will be fine.”</p>
<p>Trixie nods, looking at her watch. “Alright, it’s just past two now… not that we have any hard numbers to go by for how long this should take, but I feel like I should at least keep track of time.”</p>
<p>“I know my limits,” Valerie says, for the umpteenth time that night.</p>
<p>Trixie only sighs and shakes her head. “You keep saying that…”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Valerie feels… odd.</p>
<p>Cold. A bit dizzy, or light-headed. She might be hungry, or she might be sick.</p>
<p><em>This isn’t good,</em> she thinks. <em>I should tell Trixie.</em></p>
<p>Then, she looks over toward Joan Taylor. She’s fast asleep, but still pale. Valerie reaches over and lightly pinches her fingertip. It’s several long seconds before the pink returns.</p>
<p>Maybe she’ll wait just a little longer…</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Trixie paces the apartment, her hands wrapped around a cooling cup of tea. Mr. Taylor is sharing a bedroom with his children tonight, both to keep them warm and to allow her and Valerie to continue caring for his wife. In the master bedroom, Mrs. Taylor is fast asleep and Valerie sits quietly at her side.</p>
<p>Valerie is almost always moving. It’s funny, Trixie thinks. Now she’s the one pacing relentlessly while Valerie is quiet and still. It’s as if they’ve traded.</p>
<p>The next time she sticks her head into the bedroom, she frowns to see that Valerie, too, has fallen asleep. It’s certainly not unreasonable to expect her to be exhausted, but Trixie doesn’t like the idea of her sleeping while still giving blood. She’s the only indicator they have as to how much is too much, after all.</p>
<p>“Valerie, sweetie,” she whispers, shaking her friend’s shoulder, “can you wake up, please? How are you feeling?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Valerie moans and shifts wincing when she accidentally tugs on the arm with the needle in it. “Cold,” she mutters. “Sorta sick.”</p>
<p>Trixie frowns severely. There’s no light in the bedroom, but Valerie’s got a pallor to match the snow outside. She pinches her fingers, watching for blood flow, but they weren’t too pink to begin with. With a scowl, she begins to unwrap the tape holding the needle securely in place. “Alright, I think this is enough.”</p>
<p>“You sure?” Valerie leans forward to get a look at their patient and nearly topples out of her chair. Trixie sets her back safely in place, every touch doubling as an exam.</p>
<p>“Mrs. Taylor is starting to get some color back in her cheeks,” she says. “I still want her in the hospital when we have that option, but she’s fine for now.” She squeezes Valerie’s hand. “You’ve done well. Get some rest.”</p>
<p>“Trix…” Valerie lifts her head to watch as Trixie spools the now-empty tubing, freed from both patient and nurse, and puts it away. “Trixie, I’m cold.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re in the middle of a blizzard with no heat,” she says, “and the anemia probably isn’t helping.” Trixie pauses for a moment, then hurries out to the hall, grabbing both hers and Valerie’s cloaks. “Here.”</p>
<p>Since they no longer have any need to stay in Mrs. Taylor’s room, Trixie leads Valerie-- wobbly and dizzy, cementing her worries-- to the couch, which will better fit both of them. She wraps them in the cloaks, and Valerie soon stretches out over the length of the sofa and falls asleep. Trixie absentmindedly runs her fingers through the brunette’s hair.</p>
<p>She looks around the room, exhaustion settling into her bones.</p>
<p>They’ve got hours yet until dawn. Their patient is sleeping, stable for now. The baby is warm in his cradle and has fed once. Valerie… Valerie will be alright, she hopes.</p>
<p>Soon enough, Trixie, too, drifts into a dreamless slumber.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“‘Scuse me, Nurse?”</p>
<p>Trixie wakes slowly, taking in the strange apartment around her and the man leaning over her. As she recognizes Mr. Taylor, the events of the previous night come flooding back. She sits up, smoothing her hair and straightening her cloak. It’s important to stay professional, after all.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Um, the landlord just came by, ‘e says the phones are up again. Not the power, though.” He sighs. “Thought you might need to make some calls; I know you mentioned it last night. And I’ve just put the kettle on, you’ll get a cuppa for your trouble… and oatmeal, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Tea would be lovely, but I don’t need breakfast right now,” she says with a smile. “Thank you. I’ll go use the phone now.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“What do you mean, you’ve suspended all ambulance services!?”</p>
<p>
  <em>”Sorry, Miss, we’re not allowed to dispatch any ambulances until the roads are plowed.”</em>
</p>
<p>Trixie bites back a curse. “The roads in Poplar don’t get plowed until the snow has bloody melted! And it’s Nurse!”</p>
<p><em><em>”Apologies, Nurse,”</em></em>the dispatch man says,<em><em>”But I don’t make the rules. I’m afraid you’ll be stranded for a while longer.”</em></em></p>
<p>Trixie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Still, not even the simplest pleasantry comes to mind.</p>
<p>The phone box call times out with a <em><em>click.</em></em></p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Patrick grabs the kettle off the stove before it whistles, not wanting to wake the rest of the house. Shelagh is up and attempting to make a nice breakfast without electricity, but May, Angela, Teddy, and Timothy-- the latter home from winter break-- are all bundled up and taking up the majority of the king sized bed.</p>
<p>His attempts at silence are proven futile when the phone rings shrilly. He nearly drops the kettle of boiling water, but he does manage to answer before the second ring.</p>
<p>“Turner residence, Dr. Turner speaking.”</p>
<p><em>”Dr. Turner, it’s Nurse Franklin,”</em> comes a familiar voice over the line. <em>”Did you know that the hospital won’t send an ambulance anywhere until the roads are clear?”</em></p>
<p>He sighs. An early start to work this morning, then. “Yes, I seem to remember a similar revelation last winter. How urgent is the situation?”</p>
<p><em>”It was urgent nearly twelve hours ago!”</em> Nurse Franklin’s voice is sharp with the bite of displeasure. <em>”I’ve been up all night with Mrs. Taylor, in the apartment block just past the bridge. She suffered a dangerous hemorrhage that we were barely able to rescue her from. She’s stable now but I would certainly like her in a hospital environment as soon as possible!”</em></p>
<p>“Of course, we’ll get her into the maternity home,” Patrick says. “But…”</p>
<p>
  <em> <em>”But?”</em> </em>
</p>
<p>“I, ah… my snow chains are in a state of disrepair, I’m afraid. I won’t be able to offer much help in the way of transportation.”</p>
<p>There’s a silence on the other end of the line. He suspects Nurse Franklin might be imagining his demise.</p>
<p><em><em>”I’m going to hang up now,”</em></em>she says, her tone too polite. ”<em><em>Before I say something I’ll regret. Please meet us at the maternity home if at all possible.”</em></em></p>
<p>“Of course,” he agrees.</p>
<p>The call is ended with a resounding <em><em>click.</em></em></p>
<p>
  <em>---</em>
</p>
<p>Trixie storms back up to the fourth floor apartment after a total of <em><em>three</em></em>phone calls, only one of which had been fruitful. At least the four flights of stairs warm her up a bit after the chill of standing in the phone box for so long.</p>
<p>“Help is on the way!” she announces to Mr. Taylor. “I’m going to look over Joan and the baby one more time this morning, and then we’ll head to the maternity home. She seems stable, but I think we’ll all breathe a little more easily once she’s under more supervision.”</p>
<p>He grins, then looks down at the couch. “What about ‘er?”</p>
<p>Trixie runs her hand over Valerie’s arm, which is wrapped around a pillow on the couch. Valerie is asleep and has been since Trixie had first dragged her to the sofa. “We’ll get her under supervision, too. But she’s my concern, not yours.”</p>
<p>Soon after Trixie has completed her examination of Joan and baby Beatrix, Phyllis arrives. She surveys the scene with eyebrows raised and hands on her hip. “What, exactly, did you all get up to last night?”</p>
<p>Trixie is guiding Mrs. Taylor from the bedroom, while Mr. Taylor carries his new daughter. “Mrs. Taylor hemorrhaged during labor, and we weren’t able to call an ambulance. After baby was safely delivered we had no choice but to perform a blood transfusion.”</p>
<p>“A blood transfusion?” Phyllis busies herself with collecting Trixie and Valerie’s medical bags and helping Mr. Taylor carry a suitcase for his wife.</p>
<p>Half-lucid on the couch, Valerie stirs. “I’m o-negative,” she slurs triumphantly.</p>
<p>“And now you’re severely anemic!” Trixie gives Val a stern look. “Phyllis is going to help you down the stairs; I’m not so sure you can walk on your own at the moment.”</p>
<p>Although Valerie and Mrs. Taylor both are a little weak and unsteady, they all make it out of the apartment without incident. Mr. Taylor summons a neighbor to watch the older children. And Phyllis’ car is a squeeze, but they all fit.</p>
<p>At the maternity home, they find Shelagh and Patrick, who must have found some form of transportation. While Valerie and the Taylors are being booked in, Trixie stops to give Phyllis and Dr. Turner the full run-down.</p>
<p>She drops her bag on the floor and adjusts her hat, which has gone beyond a fashionably jaunty angle all the way to crooked. She pinches the bridge of her nose, takes a deep breath, and then sets her hands on her hips, giving a little shake of her head.</p>
<p>“You will not <em>believe</em> the night I’ve had.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or kudos, or find me on tumblr at bijulesspookyohara !</p></blockquote></div></div>
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